


mr. & mrs. jackson

by c_tristesse



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut, TW: Violence, and i will FIND U, assassins / hitmen / mercenaries, close this tab now if u are under 18 this is not for u, i will know, just a little bit, they try to kill each other, tw: references to guns and explosions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_tristesse/pseuds/c_tristesse
Summary: Percy and Annabeth are a happily married couple, living in suburban New York and working normal jobs...if you can call leading a double life as a contract killer / assassin "normal." They've both managed to keep their real professions a secret from each other for 5 years, but everything changes the day they end up hunting the same mark. Now, they’ll have to killeach otherto stay in the game.Easier said than done.Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	mr. & mrs. jackson

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahahaha ok so i can explain 
> 
> goofy-but-secretly-dom!percy + im-an-assassin-who-can-kick-your-ass-in-stilettos!annabeth is literally my favorite thing in the whole world, and that is literally the whole dynamic of this branjolina classic. also,,,the kitchen scene,,,iykyk.
> 
> warning: **there is highly explicit sex towards the end of the chap** , pls skip if u don't wanna read. also some fight scenes with mentions of guns, bleeding, bombs, and hand-to-hand combat.
> 
> ps percy’s cover is ocean photography (he has to travel a lot for "shoots") and annabeth's is architecture (always "on site" for her designs / builds)
> 
> enjoy ;)

She should have known. She should have _fucking_ known.

Annabeth grips the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white, her jaw clenched in anger. The betrayal hurts, of course, but right now nothing compares to how bitterly she is disappointed in herself. So much for the smartest operative the agency has ever seen. She’s been a fool, and a willfully ignorant one at that. How many times did she have to learn this lesson? Never trust anyone. No exceptions. The pain she feels now is a fitting punishment for forgetting the first rule of her trade.

Really though, it was Percy’s fault for making her think he would be different. He’d just been so damn convincing, starting with the first moment she’d met him in Greece all those years ago. He’d swept her off her feet with his stupid smile and carefree laugh - a summer fling turned into an extended couple’s vacation when neither of them had been willing to separate.

Their whirlwind romance had been the happiest few months of her life. Every single day she fell more in love with Percy, with his kisses that stole her breath away and his sweet words that left her giddy, even when the logical part of her brain stubbornly insisted the passion between them would never last.

But it had.

The spark between them had survived after months of dating despite both of their busy schedules and constant traveling - instead of fizzling out, it settled into something solid and real, something that had just seemed so _genuine_. She can’t remember exactly when Percy’s comforting touch turned into something she relied on, but it had been well before he had gotten down on one knee, nearly six years ago. She had actually believed it when he said he loved her. She’d thought the expression on his face was real when he held her hands at the altar and said “I do”, his green eyes shining with tears.

The same green eyes that had stared her down over the barrel of a rocket launcher yesterday and nearly blown her off a cliff.

She hadn’t recognized him the moment, of course. She had thought the figure who had wandered within range of her mark was just a stupid tourist, especially since he’d arrived at the harbor on _fucking jet skis._ Obviously, she couldn’t have a civilian traipsing around during her mission - when he started making towards her target’s yacht, she decided to set off the back-up charges on the beach as a warning. It was only a small detonation, just enough to knock him to his feet and hopefully scare him away without causing any permanent damage.

Apparently, he had taken the explosion personally.

By the time Annabeth had regained consciousness and dragged herself out of the burning wreckage of her sniper’s nest, both the _Princess Andromeda_ and the missile-wielding operative were long gone. It was the first assignment she had failed in over two decades, an ugly black mark on her otherwise spotless record. The fury at having her carefully laid plans disrupted had eaten at her all the way back to their base, her wounded pride stinging more fiercely than her burns.

“Pull up the footage,” she had hissed at Malcolm as soon as she had made it past their agency’s penthouse security. Her second-in-command had raised an eyebrow at her various injuries, but wisely chose not to comment on the blood still dripping from her untreated wounds. Annabeth Chase had never been a patient woman and her furious tone left even less room for discussion than usual. The security feed flickered to life on the monitor and Annabeth fast-forwarded until she saw the tiny figure appear on the docks.

“Zoom in,” Annabeth instructed, “I need an ID on that face.”

Malcolm panned in and opened up their (highly illegal) facial recognition software. But before he could even run something through the database, Annabeth had already recognized the nest of black hair, the broad shoulders filling out a familiar wetsuit, the trouble-making grin on the man’s face.

The gleaming titanium band studded with sapphires that she had slid onto his finger 5 years ago.

Pulling herself back into the present moment, Annabeth veers sharply off the freeway, ignoring the chorus of honks that erupt behind her. She’d been given 48 hours to clean up this mess, but even if her job wasn’t on the line, she would have hunted him down. She’ll make Percy Jackson regret conning his way into her life if it’s the last thing she does.

* * *

As Percy wriggles through the vents above his wife’s architecture firm slash special-ops headquarters located on the 80th floor of the Empire State Building, he wonders exactly what gods had cursed him spectacularly enough for his life to fall apart in the span of a few hours.

Yesterday, he’d been in Miami for what was supposed to be a simple assignment, a smash-and-grab for a super-weapon being stashed on some douchebag’s private yacht. Silena and Charles had already done recon on the harbor for 72 hours and declared it a walk in the park. Percy had been planning to be in and out quick enough to head back to New York that night - in fact, he’d already told Annabeth his “shoot” was wrapping up and that he’d see her at home for dinner.

The last thing he expected was for some asshole sniper to try muscling in on his job, piss him off enough to use one of his very expensive RPGs, then for the rest of the operation to get blown wide open by a crew that was _way_ more armed than their intel had believed. And to top it all off, the remnants of the remote charges detonated by aforementioned asshole sniper had been traced back to his wife’s work address.

He hadn’t believed it when the familiar company name popped up on Beckendorf’s hunt through the dark web. Percy had stewed all night, working himself up to confront her about it, but she’d never come home. Or answered any of his texts. Or unblocked his calls.

Which leads him to now, trying to break into Annabeth’s office, hoping against hope that her involvement is some kind of bizarre coincidence, and wondering how to best handle the shit show that’s sure to follow if it’s not.

Percy pulls himself through a particularly tight section of crawl-space and decides the gods responsible for this mess can go right ahead and fuck themselves.

“Percy.” Annabeth’s familiar voice whispers into his ear piece and Percy yelps in surprise. “I know you’re up there.”

He freezes in his tracks. “Um. Wrong number?” he ventures, frantically trying to figure out how she hijacked his supposedly unhackable frequency. He silently curses his tech team and their unreliable junk.

(Several miles away, in the basement of his garage-turned-advanced-weapons-lab, Charles sneezes.)

Annabeth sighs and static crackles across the tiny speaker in Percy’s ear. “I’ll give you 30 seconds to surrender before I kill you.” There is zero hesitation in her voice, which makes it harder to pretend that Annabeth is not secretly some kind of assassin - and he _really_ shouldn’t be attracted to the way she threatens him like that.

“C’mon, Annabeth, can’t we just talk about this?” Percy asks amiably, still finagling his way through the air duct. Just a little further and he’ll be above the main office space...

“I think your rocket launcher did plenty of talking last night.” Her tone is harsh as steel - Percy’s heard her speak this way before, usually into the little black phone reserved for her work calls, but he’s never been on the receiving end of her icy voice. He breaks into a cold sweat.

“I didn’t know it was you!”

She lets out a single derisive laugh, devoid of all humor. “Right. And I should just take your word for it, because you’ve been _so honest_ about everything else?”

And this, Percy realizes, is what she can’t forgive. Every secret he’s kept, every lie he’s told are now laid bare for what they mean: a betrayal of her trust. Annabeth is not the kind to open up easily, he knows - and now that he’s hurt her in this way, she’ll never let him in again. His heart sinks into his stomach at the realization.

Percy swears under his breath and starts assembling the hand-held laser designed to cut through the thin metal walls of the air duct. It’s easier said than done in the cramped space - he holds the spare parts between his teeth to free up both hands. If he can just get out of this god-forsaken vent, then he can talk to Annabeth face-to-face...that’s his only chance to salvage things. She’s never been able to say no to his baby seal eyes.

“Time’s up,” Annabeth says tersely. “What’s it going to be, Jackson?”

Percy mumbles around the tools in his mouth, “I dunno, babe. It’s a tough choice between the cyanide gas cylinders I dismantled and the incinerator that now has no power source.”

A pause. Percy hears the sounds of rapid keyboard typing in the background as he finishes fiddling with the device in his hands.

“Impressive,” Annabeth says begrudgingly, having apparently verified his claims of sabotage. Percy grins at her annoyed tone.

“I always tell you to stop underestimating me,” comes his cheeky reply. Finally, the laser finishes its job - the metal cut-out falls from the wall, leaving a hole large enough for him to maneuver through.

“I could say the same to you,” she replies, not missing a beat. “You should know by now that I always have a plan.”

Percy shoulders his way out of the vent and bursts through the ceiling in a shower of plaster - he lands with a roll and comes up in a fighting stance, eyes automatically scanning for threats.

Instead, he finds the floor completely deserted. Well, _almost_ completely - Annabeth is poised on the ledge of an open window, about to hook herself to a black cable anchored to the wall. She turns her head in his direction by a fraction, just enough for him to see the conflicted look in her gray eyes.

“Bye, Perce.”

He sprints for the window but she’s already speeding away, halfway down the zipline. Before he can even think about following, she alights on a rooftop far below him and slices the cord behind her. It dangles uselessly in the wind above Percy’s head.

“Chicken shit!” He yells, leaning out the window with a ridiculous smile on his face - if he squints, he can just barely make out her mouth moving in laughter.

And then the room erupts into flame.

He screams as the explosion sets his skin on fire and blasts him straight out of the window. The last thing Percy sees is the spire of the Empire State Building, backlit by the inferno and a thick cloud of smoke, as he hurtles nearly a hundred stories towards the concrete.

* * *

Annabeth stares blankly through the window of Leela’s Café, a tiny bookstore tucked away on the Upper West Side. This morning’s newspaper and a cup of tepid coffee sit untouched on the table in front of her. The busy streets somehow look colorless despite the blue sky and sunshine overhead. But New York City is bustling with people, just like always - they stride with a purpose, many of them smiling on their way to lunch. Annabeth barely registers their faces. She barely registers anything.

It feels like a different lifetime ago that she sat at this exact table, sharing a plate of blueberry pancakes with Percy and watching the world go by. He’d spent the whole morning trying to distract her from the Sunday crossword, stealing her pen to write in ridiculous answers ( _I’m telling you Annabeth, it’s spelled “chihuahua” not “chimerian”_ ) and just generally being a goofball.

She can’t bring herself to turn to the crossword now. Instead, the front page of the paper grips her attention in bold letters: "FIRE AT THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING, CASUALTIES UNKNOWN".

Annabeth knows better, of course. They will find no casualties - the charges had been carefully designed to destroy the office alone without causing any structural damage to the rest of the building. There were no civilians to account for, just one man whose body would never be found. His name will never reach the headlines or the obituaries.

It’ll be like Percy Jackson never existed. Her agency would make sure of that.

This was what she had wanted, right? It was her duty, her _responsibility_ , to eliminate this threat - and she had succeeded. Mission accomplished. It didn't matter what he had claimed to know or not know, he was a liability. A loose end. She had outlined his death in a hundred different ways, including the last-resort contingency of evacuation and explosives.

This entire thing was _her plan_ , and her plans were perfect. So why does it feel like something has gone horribly wrong?

Annabeth’s work phone chimes from the bottom of her purse, snapping her back to reality. She fishes the device out in a flash and presses it to her ear.

“Shoot.”

“It’s me,” comes Luke’s familiar voice from the other end of the call. “We just got another lead on the master bolt job, and the council wants their top operative back in the field. You ready for another assignment?”

Usually, a commendation from the council would be enough to make Annabeth’s day - but right now, she feels...nothing. Still, maybe going through the motions will be enough to keep her distracted.

“Who’s the mark?” she asks, trying to muster any of her usual excitement for challenging targets.

She hears Luke sigh. “Actually, I can’t talk about it over the phone - let’s discuss the details tomorrow, in person. Will you be at home?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her voice is detached, eyes unable to move away from the headline still laid out before her. “Can’t exactly sleep at the office again tonight.”

“OK then, I’ll stop by at oh-six hundred to brief you. And Annabeth...” Luke hesitates, as if debating whether or not to tell her something - after a few awkward seconds, he seems to decide against it. “Just try to get some sleep tonight, OK?”

Annabeth bites her lip, eyes stinging as she’s reminded of the empty house and cold bed that’s waiting for her in Long Island. “Yeah. I’ll try,” she responds in a clipped tone.

She hangs up quickly and stuffs the phone back in her bag - it jangles against something metallic that catches Annabeth’s eye.

Her wedding ring.

A wave of sorrow washes over her at the reminder of Percy’s betrayal. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to throw the damn thing out yesterday - later, she’d rationalized it by telling herself there were black market fences who would pay several hundred grand for the fat blue diamond - but in the moment, she hadn’t been ready to let go yet. Even if she was too furious to stand the sight of it on her finger at the time, discarding the last symbol of her marriage had been too much to ask of her broken heart last night.

Seeing it now, though, she just feels numb. Her chest is completely hollow - not like her heart’s been ripped out, but as if she never had one in the first place. Or if she ever did, it’s now been burnt to ashes along with sea green eyes and the softest smile she’s ever known.

Carefully, as if handling a bomb, she extracts the piece of jewelry from her bag and places it on the table next to her coffee mug, then walks out of the café without a second glance.

Annabeth is one of the best contract killers in the world, the elite of the elite in her profession. She never wanted a heart before she met Percy, and she certainly doesn’t need one now.

So instead, she does her fucking job: she takes a deep breath, seals away her emotions, and starts preparing for her next move.

* * *

It’s well past midnight by the time Percy arrives in their quiet Montauk neighborhood. The two-story residence he once called home gleams in the moonlight, all sleek lines with a few nods to classic Greek architecture. And really, how was he supposed to figure out Annabeth’s gig was just a cover when she had designed _that_?

He sneaks through the back fence, careful to avoid the motion-sensitive alarms. Annabeth has no idea that he had (barely) survived her nasty little bomb - through a combination of quick reflexes and sheer luck - and he had to hold on to the element of surprise if he was going to stand a chance against her in his injured state. With a practiced grace, Percy sidles up the vine trellis and slips through the open window of his home office.

He ignores the way his heart squeezes at the familiar surroundings: the framed picture of Annabeth in her wedding dress innocently sitting on his desk, the special-order waterproof camera she’d gotten him for his birthday last year. He can’t be distracted by these memories - these _lies_ , he corrects himself - when he’s come this far.

Grover had been adamantly against this plan. His usual light-hearted demeanor had vanished when Percy proposed the idea, voice turning serious as he said, “It’s a bad idea, Perce. You know you won’t be able to pull the trigger - you said it yourself yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, yesterday I didn’t think she’d be able to kill me either,” Percy retorted. “Like 5 years of marriage might’ve actually meant something to her.” The fresh burns on his back and the stabbing sensation in his spine prickle painfully at the recollection of their last encounter.

“She made her point. Why ask her to make it again? Don’t let your personal issues cloud your judgement on this. She’ll just finish the job this time,” Grover pointed out wisely.

Percy just continued to assemble his weapons and gear, completely undeterred. “It’s not personal, G-man. We need answers - at the bare minimum, I need to find out who she works for. Gods know they have every detail about my life, it’s only a matter of time before that leads back to the rest of Delphi. And I’m not putting you guys in that kind of danger.” His voice carried a tone of finality and Grover had sighed in defeat.

“Then at least promise me you won’t be soft, OK? Treat it like a regular job. If you hesitate at all, she’ll destroy you.” Grover’s voice was mournful, like he’d already started imagining Percy’s funeral.

Percy’s response was firm, unyielding. “I won’t.”

Despite that promise, the rifle feels heavier in Percy’s hands than ever before. Ambushing her at home was a terrible idea, he decides grimly - there are too many reminders here. How is he supposed to pretend it’s not personal when the last time he’d snuck down these steps was to make breakfast for the woman he thought was the love of his life? The same person he now has to torture for information to save his team from being hunted down and murdered?

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs and holds his breath. He can hear Annabeth’s heels clacking on the kitchen tile, the sound of liquid being poured. _Don’t hesitate,_ he reminds himself before bursting into the room.

Something metallic whizzes towards him and Percy rolls to the side instinctively, coming up on one knee with his gun pointed straight at Annabeth. He registers the sound of something sharp lodging solidly into the wall behind him but doesn’t dare turn to look. Not that he could tear his attention away from Annabeth, anyways.

She’s leaning forward, muscles poised and arm outstretched from throwing something - probably the cleaver, since the top spot in their knife block is noticeably empty. Her golden curls are pulled back into a loose braid and she’s wearing a long black dress that elegantly drapes her athletic frame. Her lips are dark, stained red like the wine in her glass, and her gray eyes are wide with astonishment.

She looks absolutely beautiful. He hates himself for thinking it.

He opens his mouth to unleash one of several scathing remarks he’s been thinking of for the last 12 hours, but what comes out instead is, “You hate wearing black.”

She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, wine glass still in her left hand. “I’m in mourning,” she responds incredulously, like she can’t quite believe this is what she’s explaining at gunpoint.

Percy snorts. “Right. Very funny. Put your hands up.”

“Or what?”

He moves the rifle a fraction to the left and squeezes the trigger, putting a bullet in the fridge an inch away from her face. To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m asking the questions tonight, Annabeth. If that’s even your real name. Now _put your hands up_.”

She rolls her eyes but raises her arms into the air. Percy swallows, trying to ignore the feeling that he’s in way over his head despite being on this side of the rifle.

“Good. Now tell me who you work for.” He tries for an intimidating tone, but Annabeth looks entirely unimpressed.

“Percy, come on. You think you can scare me into talking? Any damage you can cause with that gun would be merciful compared to what my agency would do to me,” she scoffs before continuing. “You have no leverage here. Or did you skip ‘Threatening a Mark 101’ in operative training?”

Percy scowls. “You’re awfully sassy for someone who just confirmed there’s no point in keeping her alive,” he says sarcastically. He aims the gun directly at her forehead. “If that’s the case, no point in drawing this out, right?”

Annabeth’s expression is unreadable. “...I guess not.”

A thick silence permeates the room. Percy feels his throat close up as he realizes what has to come next. The best way to protect himself and his team at this point is to kill her. If nothing else, it might get him access to whatever information she has secured in the house behind things like retinal scans or fingerprint IDs that she obviously won’t grant him access to willingly. His breathing becomes ragged, a harsh sound in their quiet kitchen.

“Just tell me one thing before we finish this, then,” he chokes out. “What did you think? The first time you saw me?”

Her eyes stay trained on him but there is no emotion in her face. “...Why do you want to know?”

“I guess...now that we’re at the end, I can’t help thinking about the beginning,” he says slowly.

She stands completely still for a few moments, her mouth set in a hard line. “I’ll tell if you tell.”

He pauses, considering. “Fine,” he says tersely after a second. “I thought...I thought you looked like Christmas morning. I don’t know how else to describe it.” His heart twists into knots at the memory of Annabeth in a gauzy white sundress and a wide-brimmed hat, glowing in the summer sun. “And you?”

A long silence. She bites down on her bottom lip - Percy can’t tell if she’s actually conflicted or just putting on a show, trying to manipulate him.

“You looked like a good mark,” she finally gets out through clenched teeth. “You were in the right place at the right time. That’s it.”

Percy ignores the jagged pain that rips through his chest. “That’s it, huh? So much for building something permanent.” His eyes burn with unshed tears but he blinks them back - he’s not going to cry in front of her, not now.

“All part of the cover, Seaweed Brain.” Her voice is hollow but it wavers on his nickname and that’s the last straw, he’s ending this _now_ before his heart breaks anymore -

As if reading his mind, Annabeth throws herself sideways in the same breath that Percy pulls the trigger. He keeps firing, trying to follow the direction she’s moving in, but nothing seems to land - instead, shards fly everywhere as their collection of wine glasses explodes. He sees a flash of silver and then more blades are flying in his direction; Percy manages to dodge the first one but the second grazes the side of his face, slicing his temple open. Warm blood spills down his forehead and into his eye.

He curses as he ducks behind the kitchen island to reload and swipe at his bleeding wound, wondering where the fuck she even _got those_ knives - as if to answer his question, he hears the clatter of shoes from across the room and sees her favorite stilettos thrown to the floor, now missing their silver inserts.

He leaps from cover, already firing in the direction the heels came from - but there’s nobody there. Instead, he feels a strong arm sling around his neck, pulling him towards the ground; she used the damn shoes as a distraction to sneak around the island and jump him from behind.

He swings the butt of his rifle behind him and feels it connect with something - her head? - and then her choke hold breaks. He gasps for breath and elbows her sharply in the sternum, trying to push her off.

The good news: it’s enough for him to scramble out of her grip.

The bad news: as he escapes, she manages to swipe the back-up pistol tucked into his chest holster.

He hears the familiar sound of the safety clicking off behind him and instinctively dives forward. Two rounds erupt above his head, splintering the cabinets and shattering even more glassware. Unfortunately for Percy, Annabeth is an excellent shot - her third bullet catches him in the back and he yells in pain.

He’s at least far enough away that the Kevlar absorbs it, but the blunt force is excruciating against his scorched skin. He manages to turn and get off a few rounds of suppressing fire, forcing Annabeth to take cover behind the dining table across the room. He uses the moment of reprieve to duck behind the island again and unbuckle himself from the bulletproof vest now cutting into his ribs.

Adrenaline pumping, he pops up above the counter and fires off a few more shots. She only has 3 bullets left whereas Percy still has several clips of ammo, so he makes use of his artillery advantage - he advances on her hiding spot without letting up the assault, not giving her a chance to get to a better defensive position.

What he doesn’t expect is for Annabeth to go on the offensive.

She leaps over the table and barrels into him from the side, expertly positioning herself under his armpit to flip him over her shoulder before he can even blink. The rifle goes flying out of his hands as he crashes to the ground, back hitting the floor hard enough to take the breath out of him. Annabeth is on top of him in a flash, body weight pinning his chest down and forearm digging into his throat while her other hand points the pistol towards his face.

But his hands are still free. Before she can pull the trigger, he reaches up and yanks her braid hard enough that her chin whips up to face the ceiling - he uses the newfound grip to flip them over, knocking the pistol out of her hand with his free arm.

Her gun goes skittering across the floor as they grapple, but no matter how strong Annabeth is, she can’t compete with Percy’s extra muscle bulk in this position. He uses the momentum of their twisting to drive his knee into her chest as hard as he can - they hear a sickening crunch of bone breaking and Annabeth’s face contorts in anguish.

He tries to press more of his weight into her fractured rib to subdue her, but the injury seems to have made Annabeth stronger instead of more vulnerable. She pulls her knees into her chest and _kicks_ , the heel of her foot connecting solidly with Percy’s groin. He releases her with a pained grunt and collapses to his knees.

Annabeth scrabbles to her feet, but before she can get too far, Percy pushes out of his crouch and sprints towards her. He doesn’t slow down, grabbing her while she’s unsteady and ramming her straight into the china cabinet.

Porcelain shatters everywhere and the beautiful blue ceramic dishes that had been Sally’s wedding gift crash to the ground. Annabeth gasps as the protruding shards puncture her skin. She reaches wildly for something, _anything_ , she can use as a weapon before he can slam her against the wall again -

Her hands close around the lip of a vase sitting on the side table next to the now-ruined cabinet. Without hesitating, she grabs it and smashes it down into his skull with all her remaining strength.

His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the impact. He staggers backwards and Annabeth slides to the ground, out of his grip. He sees her run across the room...towards the rifle lying on the floor.

Dazed, he lurches in the opposite direction, looking for the pistol she lost in their scuffle. He spots the weapon and scoops it up, turning towards her with his finger on the trigger at the same time she cocks the loaded rifle in both hands.

They stare at each other from mere feet away, guns trained in a stand-off at arm's length. They are both tense, posture rigid as they hold their aim with deadly precision - blood drips down the cut on Percy’s forehead but he doesn’t even blink. Annabeth’s glare is merciless, her eyes the coldest gray he’s ever seen. He feels anger swirling within him at her closed-off expression and he tightens his grip on the pistol, trying to use that rage as a reason to just squeeze the damn trigger and end this once and for all -

But as her challenging gaze bores into him, just as intense as the day he first met her on the steps of the Parthenon, it’s impossible to deny the truth.

“I can’t do it,” Percy says with a defeated whisper.

He lowers his weapon, muscles relaxing automatically as he breaks his stance. He can see her jaw clench, her lips pull back in a snarl.

“Don’t you dare! Just - just shoot me!” Her voice comes out as an angry yell that echoes ominously in their silent kitchen. Her voice cracks right at the end, betraying the distress behind her fury.

Percy slowly shakes his head. Tears spring to Annabeth’s eyes as she bites down on her lip and he’s pretty sure this is the last thing he’ll ever see - _All things considered, not a bad way to go_ , he thinks to himself…

Instead, her gun clatters to the ground. Percy stares at it for a long moment before snapping his gaze back to hers, green eyes wide with shock.

This is not a smart choice. Annabeth knows this, the logical part of her mind is _screaming_ at her to take out the mark - but for the first time in 20 years, she decides she couldn’t care less about the job.

She already lost her heart once today. She can’t do it again.

Annabeth launches herself at Percy, hands coming to grasp the back of his head as she pulls him into a desperate kiss. He barely registers the familiar heat of her body before he’s dropping his own weapon and kissing her back fiercely, crashing into her with enough force to knock her backwards into the fridge.

Adrenaline courses through Annabeth’s veins. She feels the hard planes of his muscle rippling as he crushes himself to her, unyielding and insanely attractive. This is not the soft boy she knows, the one whose lips are sweet and smooth as honey. There is none of his gentleness in this kiss - it is all teeth and tongue and ravaging, a battle for dominance just as carnal as their near-death match.

He bites down on her lower lip hard enough to taste blood and she gasps into his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair and pulling. Percy’s stare is fierce, full of fire - she’s never seen him look like this, the glint of hunger in his eyes. Arousal ignites between her legs and she rolls her hips against his on reflex. His expression darkens with need and it sends a shiver down her spine.

She none-too-gently yanks his mouth down to hers, intent on possessing his lips again, but Percy has other ideas. His hands move to cup her ass and he lifts her up, biceps flexing with an easy strength. Annabeth’s thighs move to bracket his hips automatically and she moans at the feeling of his hardness pressed right against her center. She needs him, _fuck_ , she’s never been more desperate to feel his length inside her, filling her up -

He distracts her from this train of thought by shoving her against the wall again, hard enough to leave a dent in the plaster. The firm surface digs into her back painfully and she’s reminded of the fact that she probably broke a rib in their spar, but she’s too lost in the heat of his mouth to pay it much attention. His hold on her is not tender, either - his fingers grip her flesh tight enough to bruise and she nips at his ear sharply in retaliation.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth at that, his erection pressing into her even more insistently. Pushing her advantage, Annabeth crosses her ankles around his back to pull his hips in closer, close enough that he can feel the heat of her entrance through his slacks. Percy groans harshly against her neck, hands moving to grope her breasts. He stills for a moment when he registers she’s not wearing a bra ( _how did that detail escape him earlier?_ ) and then he’s grabbing the thin fabric of her dress - there’s a loud _riiiiiiip!_ as Percy viciously tears the black satin in half.

Her breasts fall heavily against her bare chest and Annabeth stares at him in shock for a second, the room quiet except for their labored breathing. Then his calloused hands are on her again and his mouth latches to the tip of her breast - he sucks sharply on one nipple while his fingers pinch and roll the other and it’s _too much_. Annabeth bites down on Percy’s shoulder to stop herself from screaming. She’s never felt pleasure and pain tied together like this before, stinging and sweet at the same time. The ache between her legs intensifies as he bites down and she throws her head back, unable to hold back the cries any longer.

She barely registers when they’re moving again, still clinging to Percy for dear life. Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire from his mouth and hands, the sensual heat between them so familiar and yet so different than anything they’ve shared before. He deposits her on the counter and she feels the cool marble on her bare ass - he releases her nipple with an indecent _pop!_ and pulls away just enough to appreciate her messy appearance, drinking in her swollen lips and heaving chest with a predatory expression.

He reaches behind his back to tug his shirt off, then steps out of his pants while Annabeth shrugs out of the torn remains of her garment. She feels a bolt of lust at the sight of his bare chest - she recognizes his tattoos, of course, the sleeve of blue waves cresting across his shoulder, but combined with the new cuts and bruises she has left on him, he looks downright sinful.

He leans over her, greedily capturing her lips once more as his hands squeeze her sensitive tits. He flicks her nipples roughly and she gasps against his mouth again - his teeth graze her skin as he litters love bites down her jaw, her neck, the swell of her breasts. Annabeth’s pulse quickens as he drags his lips deliberately over her stomach and sucks a red mark right above the hem of her panties.

He looks up at her through his lashes and his eyes are dark with need, darker than she’s ever seen them.

“Do you want this?” His voice is a low rumble that sends a thrill through her.

Annabeth swallows and tangles her fingers in Percy’s hair, trying to push his head down to where she so desperately wants him, but he’s having none of it. He grabs her wrists and pins them to the counter with more than playful strength - it’s not a hold she would be able to break with just her upper body strength. It’s risky and she distantly thinks how stupid she’s being to let him put her in such a vulnerable position, but then he’s licking his lips with that wolfish stare and all thoughts not focused on his mouth evaporate.

“I need to hear you say it,” Percy growls, pressing her arms more firmly against countertop. She meets his insatiable gaze with a stubborn look of her own.

“ _Yes_.”

He shudders at the hint of a plea in her voice and shifts his grip to hold both her wrists in one hand before getting to his knees. With his free hand, he hooks a finger through her underwear and swiftly tosses it to the side before propping her legs over his shoulder.

Percy has always enjoyed going down on her. Usually, he likes to take her apart slowly, dragging his tongue up and down her wet folds as his fingers make leisurely circles around her clit, mixing in deliberate pauses before gradually building her up again until he finally, _finally_ eases her into climax.

There is nothing gradual about the way he eats her out now.

His mouth is ferocious, demanding, delving inside her without hesitation. She feels him moan at how much she’s already dripping for him - his lips vibrate against her entrance as he fucks her open with his tongue. He has a single-minded devotion she’s never experienced, extracting exactly what he wants from her without any of his usual teasing or languid kisses. Annabeth screams in ecstasy, legs already shaking as she approaches orgasm more rapidly than she thought was physically possible. The filthy, wet sounds coming from his mouth only intensify her aching lust. His mouth moves to her swollen clit, sucking intently as his thick fingers push inside of her, stretching her open. His tongue laves against the sensitive nub over and over again, picking up speed as a stream of curses escapes Annabeth’s lips.

“ _Fuck_ , Percy, I’m gonna come, I’m so fucking close - _ah_!”

She lets out one last cry as his fingers brush the roof of her cunt, twisting into the spot that always makes her see stars. Her thighs clench around his face as the orgasm hits her with a force of a train. Her toes curl and every muscle in her body seizes up at the sensation before relaxing into release. Her knees fall weakly back onto his shoulders and she tries to tug her arms out of his grip, expecting him to pull away from her - but he seals his hand around her wrists even tighter and pushes his nose further into her curls.

He doesn’t let her come down from her climax for even a moment, the tip of his tongue flicking her clit faster and faster as he works that spot inside her with his index finger. His pace is merciless and the overstimulation borders on painful as he drives her to new heights of pleasure. She screams his name until her voice is hoarse, barely able to figure out if she’s begging him to slow down or go faster. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t even come up for air, and moments later, Annabeth is trembling from head to toe as the second orgasm crackles through her. Her mind goes blank and her ears ring - distantly, she recognizes the intense tingling sensation of climax shooting all the way down legs.

Finally Percy releases her, moving to stand as he wipes her wetness off his chin. His dark hair is mussed and the thick outline of his erection straining against his boxers is like a punch to her gut. Mouth dry, she sits up and reaches for him - the only thing she can still process is how much she needs him inside her _right now_. Her nails scratch his hips in her haste to get him undressed.

His eyes are feverish as his gaze rakes down her naked body, honing in on the relief slowly dripping down her thighs. He steps out of his underwear and palms his cock roughly, tip already wet with pre-cum. He guides himself to her entrance, rubbing the head against her slippery folds while his other hand grabs her waist to pull her flush against him. Most of her ass is now falling off the ledge of the island, so she wraps her legs around him again for balance - her hands stay planted firmly on the countertop as she leans more of her weight into her arms.

With deliberate slowness, Percy pushes into her familiar heat. His eyes stay focused on her, absorbing every minute detail - the soft moan she lets out when he bottoms out, the way she tightens around him as her eyelids flutter shut, the pure ecstasy drawing her eyebrows together.

For just a moment, he’s reminded of the last time they had sex in the kitchen - a stupidly domestic scene from their anniversary that started off with cupcake baking but somehow ended with Annabeth shirtless on the counter, both of them covered in frosting. She had laughed into his kisses, blue icing on his face and in her hair, her pink lips parted in pleasure as he fucked her lazily against the marble.

His heart breaks at the realization that they’ll never be able to go back to the quiet happiness of that moment. Their marriage lies in pieces on the floor, shattered by their own hands.

But as he takes in her enraptured expression and the sheer perfection of her naked body pressed up against him, at least it’s clear that, right now, Annabeth still belongs to him.

Unconsciously, his free hand comes up to cradle her neck, barely ghosting over her skin while his other hand digs into her hip painfully. Her eyes fly open, surprised - but he sees no fear in her gaze. He rests his fingers more fully around her throat and her pupils dilate with lust.

“ _Annabeth_.” Her name leaves his mouth like a low oath, his eyes begging for something he doesn’t know how to name. Her skin burns under his touch and he feels her swallow beneath his palm.

She nods slowly, tilting her chin up to expose her neck more fully to him. She rolls her hips into him, tightening around the head of his cock - he groans at the sensation, intoxicated by her warmth and the heady confirmation of her consent. He could come just from this, just from feeling her submit to him.

Unable to wait any longer, he thrusts into her once, twice, gauging her response as his thumb presses into her windpipe just a touch more. After a few more slow pushes in and out, Annabeth lets out a desperate sound that Percy takes as a sign to go faster. He builds to a punishingly quick pace, unrelenting but still measured enough to fill her to the hilt with every thrust, penetrating her as deep as he can with each slam of his hips.

He won’t be able to hold out for long, not with the way Annabeth is keening in pleasure, wet and pulsing and _so fucking good_ \- he’s completely undone by seeing her like this: chest flushed, breasts bouncing, and arms shaking like she’s barely keeping it together.

Annabeth never knew the light pressure of Percy’s hand around her throat could be so exhilarating. Every touch brings a new awareness of his dominating presence, every merciless roll of his hips so much more intense from feeling his control over her. Her breath comes in halting gasps as he pounds into her, spreading her and filling her _perfectly_ \- she didn’t think she’d be able to come again, but Percy is apparently determined to fuck her until she’s a quivering, incoherent mess.

His length is hot inside her, hard and satisfying enough to stoke the heat inside her to a searing crescendo. Her eyes screw shut as her orgasm inches closer with every thick slide of Percy’s cock. He’s barely fucked her for a few minutes but she’s so goddamn close, and she knows he can tell from the way she can’t stop moaning and squeezing him tighter -

“Annabeth. _Look at me_ when you come.”

Annabeth’s eyes snap open at Percy’s guttural command, instantly finding his heated gaze. His rhythm becomes frantic as they both approach climax, his large palm constricting her airway just a fraction more. His other hand reaches towards her center, thumb brushing her clit roughly and then she’s flying apart into a million pieces, clenching around Percy as she comes. Her back arches and she fights the instinct to close her eyes, helplessly caught once again by his ravenous stare.

She’s never seen him look so desperate - almost like he’s drowning, and watching her is as necessary as a lungful of air. Gray eyes stay locked on to green as her cunt spasms around him and that’s enough to pull Percy over the edge with her - his hips slam into her one last time before he releases inside her with a heavy moan.

They hold each other without breaking eye contact, both riding out the aftershocks of their climax as they try to catch their breath. Percy’s cock is still buried inside her, half-hard and twitching, but he releases her neck in favor of brushing her golden curls behind her ear with delicate fingers. The heavy energy around him fades away, replaced by the tenderness Annabeth is used to - the next time she looks up, his eyes are full of worship instead of hunger. Her pulse quickens at the familiar sight.

“You...you’ve been holding out on me,” Annabeth gets out between gulping in deep breaths. Percy throws his head back with a husky laugh, struck by her accusatory tone and the sheer ridiculousness of this entire situation. It sends lovely vibrations through her center from where they’re still connected and she lets out a satisfied hum.

“Seriously? _That’s_ what you’re going to focus on?”

“Kinda hard to focus on anything else right now,” she says drily.

He laughs again and slips out of her, pulling his boxers back on and kissing her forehead. He scoops his discarded t-shirt off the floor and offers it to her with red ears and a muttered apology about her dress. She accepts it wordlessly, suddenly feeling sober now that her pulse is normalizing.

She wants to smile at his sweetness, his embarrassed gestures - really, she does. But the pleasant haze of desire is fading fast and leaving her uncomfortably aware of the fact that she has just thrown herself back into the arms of someone who had lied to her for 5 years. The chill of doubt creeps under her skin. How can she reconcile the loving man she thought she knew better than the back of her hand with the dangerous operative she just met yesterday? This Percy Jackson is clearly not afraid of causing damage or ripping her control away - he could destroy her, if she let him in again. In so many more ways than before. This version of him is...deadly.

That _really_ shouldn’t be such a turn on.

“So this is the real you, huh?” she asks him with a calculated stare, still perched on the counter in nothing but his white cotton shirt.

Percy averts his eyes but she can still read his emotions in the way his shoulders tense - his guard is coming back up, just like hers. He makes his way towards the sink instead of answering her, broken glass crunching under his feet. He reaches into one of the destroyed cabinets and fishes out two half-shattered tumblers - he fills them both with water before sliding one across the island to Annabeth.

Both of them take measured sips, sizing each other up over the jagged edges of their broken cups. Finally, Percy seems to find the words he wants.

“I’ve never felt more like the ‘real me’ than when I’m with you, Annabeth. I guess there were just some parts I thought I could...that I _wanted_ to keep hidden.” A shadow crosses his face as he continues. “I didn’t want you to know the truth about me. I thought I would lose you.”

Percy’s stares deliberately down at his mug while he speaks. He’s trying to school his expression into something neutral, but Annabeth recognizes the way his eyes burn with self-loathing. And that’s when she puts it together: he’s _afraid_ to admit this. He’s expecting her to push him away, to be disgusted by this darker side of him.

He drags his gaze up to meet hers before continuing. “Guess I fucked it up anyways. Disappointing, right?” he asks with a bitter smile.

He’s trying to act indifferent but his tone is so fragile, so vulnerable. Like the thinnest layer of ice on a frozen pond, ready to fracture at the slightest pressure. She could break him with a single word.

“You could never disappoint me, Perce,” she says quietly. The light comes back into his eyes and his muscles relax, as if the weight of the sky has been lifted from his shoulders. He steps in closer, hand coming up to run his knuckles along her jaw in a familiar gesture. Her heart melts and she clutches the counter to stop herself from kissing him.

He gives her a love-struck smile. “Well, you know. Most people wouldn’t be thrilled to find out their husband is secretly a hitman.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I’m not most people.”

He brushes the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. “Don’t I know it,” he replies, voice full of wonder.

And then he gives her _that look_ , the one that makes her feel seen and loved despite all of her flaws - the exact same one he gave her at the altar. It tugs at her heartstrings and the question she’s been dying to ask him escapes her lips before she can stop it. “And how about you? Disappointed to find out that your wife isn’t some harmless civilian you can settle down with?”

He snorts. “‘Harmless’? Please. I married you _knowing_ how hard you could kick my ass. Now I just know you could probably do it blindfolded and with your hands tied behind your back.”

There’s a rush of warmth in her chest at his easy acceptance but she refuses to acknowledge it, sure that his answer will change once he thinks this through.

“Be serious, Percy. We both know how important all of that normal stuff is to you - family, stability, a quiet life. You’ll never have that with me. If you were smart, you’d walk out now,” she says, shaking with trepidation from finally voicing the fear that has haunted her for 6 years.

His hand stills, palm resting against her cheek. She looks down at the floor, unable to watch the realization dawn on him. She can’t give him what he wants, she never could. It was only a matter of time before he left.

Suddenly, he cups her chin and tilts it up towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His expression is fierce, almost angry. “That’s bullshit, Annabeth. _You’re_ the most important thing to me. And the only life I want is one where I’m with you,” he declares, and there’s something hard in his tone that makes it impossible not to believe him.

Annabeth feels herself letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Part of her has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for just one alibi to fall through or one plan to go wrong and then he’d know everything she’d pretended not to be.

But she’s not pretending anymore. And somehow, impossibly, he still wants to stay. He wraps her up in a hug and it feels like a miracle to not wonder whether he would still hold her like this if he knew what he was coming home to. She presses her forehead into the crook of his neck and breathes in the scent of his skin.

“I love you, Annabeth. Nothing will ever change that.”

And of _course_ he would be the first one to say these words again, to put his bleeding heart right back on his damn sleeve. He has always been selfless in his love for her, unafraid to care even when it might hurt the most. If she wasn’t already sure this man was the same Percy she fell for, this would have confirmed it. He was still a stupidly brave idiot. _Her_ stupidly brave idiot.

“I love you, too,” she says, and even though she’s said it to him a thousand times over their years together, this one feels the most important.

He pulls away to look her in the eyes and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. They drink each other in, seeing each other and being seen for the first time all over again. It’s the most intimate exchange they’ve had all night - Annabeth knows they’re thinking the exact same thing without speaking a word. They’re alive. They’re together. That’s all that matters.

Percy takes her hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. “So, where does that leave us? Starting over? Or just picking up where we left off?”

Annabeth groans. Somehow, this is even _more_ complicated now that they’re not hiding anything - even if she wanted to pretend everything could go back to normal in an instant and run off into the sunset with him, her bosses are sure to put out a bounty on both of them once they find out Percy is alive. Not to mention Percy’s ragtag team and their baggage.

This is a problem for future Annabeth to deal with.

“Honestly? I don’t know what to do. Let’s figure something out in the morning,” she says, rubbing away the headache that’s already forming at her right eye.

Percy’s soft smile sharpens into a troublemaking grin. “First time I’ve ever heard you admit to not knowing something.”

Annabeth scowls. “Shut up. It’s a testament to my intelligence that I’m even this coherent after what you did to me,” she replies, accusing him with a sharp poke to the chest.

“Oh? And what exactly did I ‘do to you’, babe?”

Percy’s voice is innocent but his expression is smug, eyes dancing with mischief. She punches him solidly in the shoulder but it’s not quite enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You are _insufferable_ , Jackson. Forget I said anything,” Annabeth says with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “For now, all that matters is that we’re dealing with whatever comes next as a team. Any more stupid questions?”

Percy shakes his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He gently picks her up off the counter and she decides to let him, trailing light kisses down his neck as he carries her up to their bedroom. He settles her under the sheets and crawls in beside her, chest pressed against her back and limbs tangled together.

“As long as we’re together,” he whispers into her skin, warm breath tickling her neck.

And despite everything, Annabeth finds herself believing in him again.

**Author's Note:**

> gonna go hide under a rock until part 2 is done ~~i am thirsty for dom!percy pls dont kink shame me~~
> 
> "leela's cafe" borrowed from my love miss imaginmatrix's fic [the gods are real](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424261/chapters/67036399), go check it out <3


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